Hide your love away
by VervainAndRoses
Summary: Catherine witnesses a moment between Francis&Mary, and feels regret that she must tear them apart.


Catherine walks back from her youngest sons' room, after checking on them for what feels like the hundredth time in the past couple of days. Her blood still chills from the thought that she could've lost her children and so she watches over them more often than usual; making their nurse nervous, she's sure. The boys were playing some game, oblivious to the dangers they had just faced, as the woman watched over them. She breathed easy as she saw them from the door, not wishing to interrupt and now she walks through the castle, hoping to catch sight of her oldest son.

She's seen Francis but little after the incident with Count Vincent. He sent news to his father after helping the Kenna girl down to the infirmary, and afterwards managed the servants like a true compassionate King, easing their fears and giving them some free time. But ever since, when he wasn't needed as regent, he disappeared for hours and she has her suspicions of where he is in all that time. Mary.

Displeasure appears in her features as she thinks of the girl, and how Francis was so ready to give his life up for her. After everything she tried to do to save him, she saw his fate almost coming true from his own hand. She thought she would lose him that night, and all because of his love for that girl.

She almost hates her for it, although logically Catherine knows Mary has done nothing wrong. She's just made her son stupidly in love with her. Mary had been the reason she'd almost lost Francis, and partly the cause of his salvation as well. She respects her, like she'd said. She can see what attracts her son to the girl. It was impressive seeing her that night, she has to admit that. She went very far from the skinny, restless child she'd raised for some years along with her own girls. Mary was strong and brave, and she'd gladly given up her life for her people. She would rule greatly as queen someday, just _not_ of France.

Catherine stops in her tracks as she finds what she's looking for. Francis, sitting in a window seat down the hallway. She is not surprised in the least of his companion. Mary is sitting very close to her son, almost in his lap, she thinks with disdainful roll of her eyes. The girl looks distressed, and Francis is looking intently at her, holding her hands in his. Curiosity consumes Catherine, and she walks closer, hiding behind the stone wall so she can hear their conversation.

"Mary…"

"Let's not speak of it anymore. I want to forget he ever touched me."

"I know that as a man…I can never understand that kind of fear… but I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry."

No. He will never understand the fear a woman has for herself, knowing that she can be overpowered and hurt in the worst way so easily. That she's only worth so much as her virtue or her status. But that he would try to understand Mary…that he would try to put himself in her place and comfort her? She knows she's raised her son well then. He's not like her King, she thinks with disdain, Henry would've called rape the side effects of war and not considered the repercussions they could have on a young girl's emotions. She's moved by her son's empathy, and regretfully stays where she is, half hidden behind the wall, but still privy to their moment. Francis kisses Mary's cheek then, and whispers to her, so sweet and low it's hard to make out.

"You were so brave that night, Mary." The girl offers him a small smile and he brings her even closer, "You are so strong. I'm proud of you."

Mary's smile goes away a little and her voice trembles like water on a stream.

"I killed a man."

With those words Catherine is almost disgusted at that sort of….weakness, that Mary feels even the slightest guilt over the murder of such a despicable man. But she just can't bring herself to despise the girl for it. Because maybe in the deepest parts of her, the Queen still wishes the world hadn't hardened her to a point where she no longer cares about all the blood staining her hands.

"He was going to hurt you, you did what was necessary." Her son tries to bring comfort with those words; his hand nestled in her hair, his thumb stroking her cheek. Mary nods, resigned, and then raises her hand to cover his.

"You promised you wouldn't come back" she says, looking up at him. "You lied to me."

"I made no such promise." He answers with a smile, touching his forehead to hers. "To leave you behind would be unthinkable, Mary."

Mary grabs his hand and lays a kiss in his palm, looking straight into his eyes. Catherine feels almost voyeuristic, being a witness to that moment. The looks shared between them so intense, their intimacy scares her. It's alarming to think that they may already have consummated their relationship, which sends panic through her chest. If there was even a slight chance of Mary being pregnant there would be no way to send her away. No chance at all for her to stop her greatest fear. But that couldn't be. Maybe she just underestimated the emotions they shared. She sent the girl to live in a convent 6 years, for heaven's sake. Surely she learned something from the nuns.

"I love you." Mary tells him, and her voice is so low and adoring, her smile so sugary sweet, Catherine can't help but roll her eyes. That kind of love is nothing, child, she wants to tell her. There are more important things in the world. Wars, family, how far would you go to save your own kin. Love can fade away with time or be replaced in the blink of an eye, but blood ties forever.

Francis leans in and whispers in Mary's ear, and from the smile that suddenly graces her features, she can only guess he mutters a reciprocation of the feeling.

"Let's go riding" her son suggests.

"But Francis, your father…He might arrive at any moment."

"So we think. But we thought the same thing yesterday and stayed inside playing chess. Would you like to repeat that?"

"I already won enough times, I guess." She teases him.

"Liar. You never finished the game." Francis smiles, and Catherine is surprised to find herself thinking that she's never seen him smile so bright in the times before she came. Except maybe when he was small, and the same raven haired girl was his playmate

"Come. Let's go riding. Maybe a little fresh air will help brighten our mood."

Mary nods and follows him, and as they start walking down the hall Catherine only has enough time to open a door and slip inside, to remain unseen. She hears their quick steps and laughter outside and then fading in the distance. For the first time, she lets herself realize what she'll be destroying and she truly feels a pang in her heart that she must tear them apart. She's witnessed their happiness and it feels like the worst of crimes to break those two souls apart.

But she must. God knows she must, for she can see it, as clear as day. In her son's eyes there was devotion for the girl in front him, for that child queen who in her eyes had now proved herself a woman, like she has never seen in any man's eyes. Not even in her husband's when he looks at Diane. And she knows that someday, that love will be Francis' downfall.


End file.
